Broken skyline, which way to love land?


It is the worst of times before the best of times, only I don’t think that the best times are even possible anymore.  I watch daily through my quarantined window as outside my city burns and goes dark.  Everywhere people are running scared, stockpiling greed to feed their fears.  The lines of society get more and more blurry with each passing day, leaving us isolated in our mutual collapse.  But all I can do is think about her.

Rome may very well be burning, the flames encroaching closer each day.  The days of bread and games are fast fading in the rear-view mirror of now idle SUVs, ghostly reminders of what we once held, though we never quite realized just how tenuous the grip.  There are probably a million different things that I should be worrying about right now.  There are incalculable scenarios to which I should be committing myself.  But all I can do is think about her.

I think about the simple beauty of her smile that brightened that first night.  I think about the lyrical tenderness of her laugh.  I think about the beauty behind those eyes, so sharp and so stunningly perceptive.  I think about her intellect, captivating in its brilliance.  And, I think about how she will never be in my life.

I missed her before I even knew her name.  I loved her the moment I walked into her world randomly on that gloomy and introspective Sunday night, unedited words in hand.  And, I socially distanced myself, long before it was mandated, the very moment I learned that her heart belongs to another.  But all I can do is think about her.

Unrequited love sucks even in the best of circumstances, but it’s made somehow worse given the current state of the world.  I ache for just one more conversation with her, one chance to absorb her insights and her genuine possibility.  I long  simply to be near her again, leaving me feeling better about the world just by knowing that she is out there, still in it.  I wait anxiously for a day when restrictions are lifted and I’m suddenly free to go and find her again.  Because all I can do is think about her.

Sometimes, the world…or fate…or karma…decides that you are destined to love somebody who can never love you back.  Sometimes, there just aren’t any possible words to turn the currents of time more favorably in your direction.  Sometimes, despite the very best of guarded intentions, and all the convoluted inexcusable justifications, you still just end up alone, while all around you the whole world collapses.

We are standing at the edge of modern society as we know it, racing towards an ending not so clearly defined.  Though the pantry is starting to run empty, and there’s precious little gas left in the tank, all I really want is for a pretty girl to read more of my words.

And all I can do is think about her…


About Grey Fox, fighter, lover, typewriter fanatic, and unrepentant Fenian bastard. Known to few, hated by many, but still typing the good fight.

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